


The Secret Language of Flowers

by swanqueenfic13



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, F/F, Fluff, Language of Flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanqueenfic13/pseuds/swanqueenfic13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little Red Beauty one shot based on the following tumblr prompt:</p><p>“I work part-time in a flower shop and you keep asking me about what this flower means in flower language and I honestly don’t know so you end up giving me a lesson” AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret Language of Flowers

It had been a slow day, and Ruby was counting down the minutes on the clock until she could go home. (Currently 52 minutes left).

She was grateful to her boss for having hired her, really. She was a broke kid trying to get through college and have something for a social life, and money helped. When she was in high school, she had worked at her Granny’s diner, but once Ruby had moved away for school, that job was gone. Now, she worked in some corny flower shop, taking phone orders, and ringing people out. Ruby has no skill actually arranging the flowers, but she can talk people into buying more expensive arrangements, so her boss keeps her around. So, the job was great, except the smell of flowers always gave her a headache.

She only had 49 minutes left when she hears the bell above the door ring. Ruby suppresses a groan- she _hates_ when customers come in during the last hour.

“Hello?” a light, feminine voice with a strong Australian accent calls out. Ruby darts out from behind the desk.

“Hi, my name is Ruby. How can I help you today?” she asks in her brightest customer-service voice. Ruby rounds the corner around a flower display, nearly crashing into the customer, and is taken aback. This girl who can’t be more than 25, maybe 26, has the bluest eyes Ruby has ever seen. Her smile is genuine, and sweet, and radiant, and her eyes sparkle, like magic, or Christmas lights in the dark.

“Hi, I’m Belle. I’m just, I’m trying to figure out an arrangement for my friends, they just got engaged. I know what I want aesthetically, but I can’t remember: which flower means ‘congratulations’?” she asks, tilting her head. It takes Ruby a moment to remember how to form words.

“I-I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she laughs awkwardly. Belle smiles at her, a little bemused.

“Well, you know how flowers mean something?” Ruby shakes her head. “Flower language!” Ruby just shakes her head, shrugging. “You work in a flower shop! How do you not know about flower language?” Belle asks, laughing. She isn’t angry with Ruby, but confused.

“I ring people out, and take phone calls. If you want, I can take your name and number, and give it to our florist specialists. Tomorrow she can call you and answer your question,” Ruby offers.

“No, it’s not that important, I can just Google it,” Belle says dismissively. _Then why even bother coming in?_ Ruby wonders to herself. She’s not complaining, because Belle is really pretty, and she’s quickly become addicted to Belle’s accent. She glances up at the clock (40 minutes) as Belle continues. “But if you’re going to work in a flower shop, you should at _least_ know the basics of flower language! Here, let me teach you.” She grabs Ruby’s wrist, pulling her back to the counter. Ruby pulls out a piece of notebook paper.

“Alright, Belle, hit me,” Ruby says goofily, grinning with pen poised. Belle just rolls her eyes.

“First thing’s first: _everything_ is important. Color, flower, and number. It all gets put together, and it’s like a symbol, or a metaphor, representing an image. _Everything_ means something,” Belle says decisively. Ruby snorts.

“I feel like I’m in high school English examining Gatsby and that stupid green light,” she scoffs. Belle looks insulted.

“Okay, that is one of the greatest metaphors in literature. How do you not see that? F. Scott Fitzgerald was a literary _genius_ and that scene is one of my favorites in all of literature and-” Ruby interrupts Belle’s impassioned speech making.

“I thought we were learning about flowers,” Ruby teases. Belle narrows her eyes, scowling playfully.

“Fine, we’ll stick to flowers. But next time, I _will_ make you understand the green light metaphor.” Belle sighs, collecting her thoughts. _Next time?_ Ruby thinks. Her stomach flutters happily. “Flowers. Flowers mean something. A red rose means something completely different from a yellow rose. Typically, roses are positive: love, friendship, that sort of thing. But the color shifts the message totally, and number changes the entire game!”

“Slow down, I’m trying to take notes,” Ruby laughs.

“I’ll bring you a book on it,” Belle says, waving her hand dismissively. Ruby rolls her eyes and puts down the pen, resting her chin on her elbows as she looks at Belle. They had both shifted to sit on the stools next to the counter, and Belle was gesticulating wildly as she spoke, describing why the numbers and colors and types of flowers made a difference in flower language. Ruby slowly started to tune the words out, focusing solely on her accent, and the way the light caught Belle’s face, and her eyes.

“If you know all this, why come in here to ask me about it?” Ruby finally asks. She glances down at her watch, wondering how long she has left, surprised to find her shift had ended five minutes ago.

“I sometimes forget specific details, but I remember the broad definitions and rules of flower language,” Belle smiles lightly.

“So, you can remember that 108 red roses means ‘will you marry me?’ and a morning glory stands for the night, or instability, but you can’t remember that a peach or coral rose stands for congratulations?” Ruby asks skeptically. She had Googled the question on her phone a while ago. Belle blushes, and the color looks good on her.

“My memory isn’t perfect,” Belle says softly. She glances over at the clock. “Oh my! You were supposed to close nearly fifteen minutes ago! I’m so sorry I’ve kept you, and I didn’t even buy anything!” she says guiltily. Ruby shrugs, unconcerned.

“It’s okay. So my boss coughs up an extra $2.25, big deal. Plus, it was a learning experience,” Ruby says, grinning at Belle, walking her out to the door. “You gonna get home okay?” she asks, looking up and down the darkened street. They weren’t exactly in the _best_ part of town, but Ruby couldn’t see anyone around.

“I’ll be fine,” Belle assures her. “Thank you for having me, and not kicking me out. I know I tend to talk a lot.”

“It’s okay, Belle. I had fun learning about the secret language of flowers,” Ruby smiles. Belle chews on her lower lip for a moment.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about showing you the brilliance of F. Scott Fitzgerald,” Belle warns teasingly as she walks away, backwards so she can face Ruby.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Ruby grins. She watches Belle walk away until she rounds the corner, out of sight.

 

A week later, when Ruby is working that same closing shift, the bell above the door rings when there are exactly 49 minutes left. Ruby glances under her desk, the surprise ready for Belle.

“Ruby?” Belle’s voice calls out. Ruby grins, glad Belle had come back. She’d gone a little crazy obsessing over the beautiful girl the past week. Her roommate was getting sick of hearing about her.

“Belle! Hi! Got any more questions? Or a lesson?” Ruby teases. Belle grins, blushing as she pulls a book out of her bag.

“I told you I’d bring you the book,” she says shyly, sliding the book titled _The Secret Language of Flowers_ across the counter. Ruby rolls her eyes, smiling. She traces the intricate bouquet of flowers on the cover. “And, I came to show you the brilliance of F. Scott Fitzgerald,” she adds, pulling a worn copy of _The Great Gats_ by out of her bag. Ruby throws her head back laughing before settling on the stool across from Belle.

“Bring it on, Belle,” Ruby says. Belle smirks, opening the book.

 

“I made you late again,” Belle says regretfully. But Ruby doesn’t mind at all.

“I told you I don’t mind. I _like_ it,” Ruby says. “I used to just sit at the counter, staring at my phone during that last hour.” They are both dragging their feet as they walk towards the front door, and Ruby hides her surprise behind her back.

“Well, Ruby-” Belle starts.

“I got you this,” Ruby interrupts before Belle can leave. She holds out the single, lavender colored rose. Belle considers it for a moment, smiling softly before taking it.

“Someone’s a quick study,” Belle praises. Ruby grins. _Someone knows how to use Google,_ Ruby thinks slyly. “I have something for you, too.” Belle reaches into her bag, pulling out an arrangement of lilacs and tulips. Ruby cocks her head, not remembering what these flowers mean. She takes them anyway. Belle briefly moves in to kiss Ruby’s cheek before whispering, “same time next week?” Ruby can barely nod before Belle is sauntering away.

 

Ruby waited until she got home to open the flower book from Belle.

First, she checked to make sure she had gotten her flower right. One flower indicates love at first sight. Though Ruby is hesitant to use the loaded ‘l’ word so quickly in a relationship, she hopes Belle understands her intent. She then double checks that a lavender rose does indeed indicate the same. Satisfied with her gift to Belle, she moves on to check the flowers she had been given.

She plays with the petals of a red tulip, blushing as she discovers they are a declaration of love. Ruby brings a lilac to her nose as she reads about how it symbolizes the first emotions of love. She grins goofily, bringing the entire bouquet to her face when she notices a tulip in the middle of the bouquet. She pulls it out, wondering if it is a mistake. She googles ‘striped tulip’ and cries after reading that it symbolizes beautiful eyes.

She puts the bouquet in a vase she had purchased at the store. When unwrapping the flowers, she finds Belle’s number hastily scrawn on the paper wrapping. “You smooth bastard, Belle,” Ruby mumbles to herself, inputting the number. She looked forward to her next shift.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Anyone have a prompt or a pairing for me? I love taking requests, and I'm willing to write almost anything!


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